Back to Life
by currierbell
Summary: Taylor has always been one to break the rules. Vivian would do anything to get her life back. These souls must help each other accept that there is no way out of death...or is there? Some MxN, but not a lot. K for extremely mild language.
1. Chapter 1 Taylor

Chapter 1

Taylor

If he hadn't stolen the principal's car, Taylor Weber would still be alive today.

Cars had always fascinated Taylor. When he was little, his parents bought him a miniature Barbie Jeep. He loved that Jeep. He spent hours driving around his backyard. He painted it over with green paint, which eventually chipped off. But by that time, he had moved on to bigger and better things. He had started stealing cars. It wasn't how it sounded. He'd walk to the nearby parking lots; grocery stores, restaurants, libraries. Then he'd take the cars and drive them around. The first thing he taught himself was parking. Then he started taking the cars out and driving to other locations. One time, he found two blue Priuses, one in the grocery store parking lot, and one in the church parking lot. He switched them. He didn't stick around to find out if the owners discovered him.

He had a friend named Rex who was nearly as car-crazy as he was. Rex was a year older than him, because Taylor had skipped a grade. Few people knew this, though, and few people would have guessed either. He had a 2.5 GPA, mainly because he ditched school to steal cars. By the time he was in ninth grade, he was absolutely obsessed with them. He and Rex would always ditch school, 2nd and 6th period, the only classes they didn't share. They'd stand on the curb and smoke and talk cars. They always looked at the teachers' cars and mocked them. But there was one that they never mocked; they revered. A sleek, silver Mercedes taunted them every day. It seemed to call to Taylor. _Steal me, _it pleaded. _You've stolen other cars. I'm not any harder, but I'm so much better. Steal me! _One day he suggested it to Rex.

"You crazy, dude?" Rex demanded, eyes wide. "We can't steal a _Mercedes_!"

Taylor shrugged. "Hey, man, why not? They ain't never caught me yet."

Rex was still struggling with the concept. "But, man, a _Mercedes_…"

"Is just the kind of car we've always wanted," Taylor finished. "C'mon, dude. We won't get caught."

Finally, Rex agreed. The bell rang for 3rd period, and they went inside. Taylor waited on the edge of his seat. Finally, after fifth period, he bolted out the door to the school parking lot. Rex was already waiting for him. "Dude, I got a bad feeling about this," Rex complained.

"You worry too much. You a sissy," Taylor teased.

"I ain't no sissy. I just got a real bad feeling."

As an answer, Taylor slipped behind the wheel of the Mercedes and shifted the clutch to D. Rex got in the passenger's seat, looking worried. "You wanna jump out, you can," Taylor allowed.

"Nah, man." Rex stayed in the car, but he looked uneasy. He and Taylor sped out and cruised around town. They yelled and screamed. They went and bought ice cream and some beer, then sat on a park bench and drank both. When they were finished, they got back in the car. Rex drove for a while, then Taylor. When it was time for school to be out, they started home. Taylor was driving.

The kiss of death – quite literally – occurred when Taylor ran a red light. A cop was waiting at the intersection, drumming his fingers on the wheel and humming along to the country radio station when a speeding Mercedes raced through a red light. The cop turned to follow him.

"Aw, man," Rex yelled, cursing under his breath.

"Don't worry," Taylor screamed, buzzed from the beer and speed. "We'll lose 'em!" He led the cop through a series of winding streets, making sharp, reckless turns by the hundreds. Unfortunately, he forgot to read the road signs. He hit a complete dead end. Taylor turned to race out, but the cop closed in on him. He heard the dreaded words he'd heard so often on those cop shows. "You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court…"

Needless to say, Taylor Weber was found guilty of automobile theft, underage drinking, driving under the influence, and driving without a license. His parents had to pay a hefty fine, and he still was sentenced to three years in a Juvenile Correction Facility.

Juvie was hell. There were kids who were in there for assault and battery, murder, rape, selling drugs. One kid had killed eight schoolmates with a gun, and bragged right under the teacher's nose that he'd happily do it again. Classes were from eight in the morning to four in the afternoon, and there were armed bodyguards outside every door. The teachers didn't really try to teach, which secretly disappointed Taylor. He would have liked to learn something. But, he guessed he was destined to be a rebel. After classes ended, the kids lounged about in the rec room. They'd watch the old TV, or play pool. Mostly, though, their entertainment was picking on the younger kids. Taylor was the third youngest in the place, with the exception of two kids. Manny was a small, shy kid who rarely talked. It was rumored he'd blown up a church because the priest got mad at him for piercing his ear. Eli was twelve, but he was built like a linebacker and towered over the sixteen-year-olds, so no one messed with him. Taylor, Rex, and Manny were the favored targets. Taylor almost always had a swollen lip, a black eye and a crooked nose. He went to the nurse once, but that made it twice as bad the next time. After "recreation time," the kids had dinner, then went to study hall, and then slept.

He hated the monotony of it, separated only by the contusions he received daily. They were all stupid. But they didn't deserve what happened next. Taylor was in Language Arts, which was sixth period, ironically enough. Suddenly the fire alarm went off, but it was unnecessary. They had already seen the science lab go up in smoke – literally. Within seconds, the scene changed from another boring day in Juvie High to a fight for everyone's life. The fire was spreading. The library, the science lab, the tech lab, and the cafeteria were already scorched beyond repair. The fire was only coming at Taylor's classroom from one side. The students all breathed into their shirts and raced out the side door, except for Manny. Taylor stayed there, with Manny, trying to cajole him into coming out.

"Please, Manny," he begged. "I'm trying to be a good guy here. I don't want to die for nothin'. C'mon with me. You must have sum' in to live for. How about your pet? Do you have a pet?"

"I hate animals," came the grumbled reply. "Leave me alone. Save yourself."

"How 'bout your mom?"

"She don't care if I die. Just go. You don't need to go down with me."

Taylor finally followed him advice. But the door had closed, and the knob was burning hot. He tried with all his might to turn it, but it cooked his flesh. It felt like a welding torch. He threw all the books he could at the door, but they burst into flames. "No!" he screamed. "Someone help!" He pounded on the door, oblivious to the blisters that formed on his skin. The fire was coming. Taylor danced around, pounding on every wall. But the mad rush of orange trampled him. He was inside it, and he breathed in. He felt his lungs vaporize. And then he was rushing, racing toward a tunnel of white light – but Manny came and knocked him out of the way! "Don't send me back there!" he tried to choke out, but no sound came from his lips. The white light absorbed Manny. Not him.


	2. Chapter 2 Vivian

Chapter 2

Vivian

Unlike Taylor, Vivian knew she was going to die.

Vivian had been sick for a long time. Ever since she was five years old, she had been in and out of hospitals. She had been diagnosed with leukemia, and never seemed to get better. Her life was a constant cycle of relapses and remission. She was an abnormal child. She enjoyed the few precious days, weeks or months of school she was permitted before the cancer caught up with her again. She loved homework and tests and all things most kids hated, simply because they gave her a much-needed sense of normalcy. She tried every time she was in school to make some friends. "Just be yourself," her supportive but stressed parents had instructed. "Once kids get to know you, they can't help but love you." It was a cliché, but she lived by it. It never seemed to work. She cycled through one or two friends. Anna and Hannah were twins, with curly chocolate hair, olive eyes, and a personality that everyone loved. If there was a class popularity contest in second grade, no doubt they would have tied for first. Vivian probably wouldn't have even been mentioned on the ballot. In third grade, she befriended Yvonne, a small, slight little girl who had a natural gift for music. They both were only children who loved dogs, apples with peanut butter _and _caramel, and reading. They were friends for about two weeks before Vivian relapsed again. By the time she was in fourth grade for the second time, it was harder to make friends. No one wanted to talk to the girl in the corner who was about an inch taller that the next tallest kid, who was a year older than everyone else. No matter how many times the teacher told the class she was repeating the grade _not_ because she failed, but she missed too much, the class opinion was that she was stupid. She was, in actuality extremely smart, but she was only in the sixth grade.

When she went to the hospital for the last time, it wasn't a real medical concern. They wanted to watch her during a critical period. She was just playing a waiting game; waiting to recieve a new heart. The thing about leukemia was you often didn't die from the leukemia itself. The cancer would cause parts of your body to gradually break down, and sooner or later, a vital organ would fail you. For her, it was her heart. One of those X-rays had shown something fatally wrong with it, so now she was on a waiting list for a new one. She knew she ought to be grateful to new medical science, allowing her to live. But it was so difficult to be grateful for anything. Would you be grateful if you'd had to drop out of soccer after the first game, because someone kicked the ball a little hard, and you were a "liability issue"? Would you be grateful if your parents cried every night, when they thought you were asleep, crying because they couldn't fix what was wrong with their daughter? Would you be grateful if you ditched every picture day (that you _could _go to), because that wig was so obviously fake? Neither was Vivian.

On the day she died, Vivian was thirteen years old. It was actually a rather commonplace day, boring even. At the time, she was working on her homework. Math. Science. Language Arts. It was all so repetitive and stupid. She wished for the trillionth time that she was out of the hospital, but she wished for more than that. She wished she could wake up one morning and never have to go back to the hospital. She wished she could go to school grudgingly, do homework, take tests, go to dances, play sports. She wished she didn't have to wear a wig. She wished her skin wasn't such an unhealthy pallid color. She wished she hadn't lost ten pounds to the cancer, making her look like a skeleton. She wished people wouldn't whisper as she passed them in the halls. "She has leukemia." "She needs some sort of serious surgery." "The doctors say without the surgery, she's only got a week to live..."

Did it matter if the doctors did say that? In reality, there was no use for a prognosis. Once you were diagnosed, you were dead already. She sighed and blinked. Had she been holding her homework this whole time? Whatever. She started to complete her homework.

2_x_/3=4 2/3. _x_=_**7**_

-8_b_=1.6 _b_=_-1/5_

(9)(2)_n_=93.6 _n_=_5.2_

Suddenly, Vivian's vision seemed to flicker in and out. This happened occasionally to her. Almost every symptom of cancer happened occasionally to her. Nausea, fatigue, numbness. It was all in a day's work for her. She reached for the button to call the nurse, but her hand appeared to be numb. She couldn't feel the button. In fact, she couldn't feel the hospital bed, her homework, her pencil - anything that she had been able to feel just a second. Now _this _was abnormal. Numbness usually started in one small section of her body and slowly spread, but never this quickly, and never on her whole body. She was so concerned with this fact that she didn't even notice her heart had stopped beating, and her lungs could no longer draw in air. Her vision suddenly returned, and she saw herself rushing toward a tunnel of bright light. It was then that she realized any life, any life at all, was better than dying. She pictured her parents' faces when they heard she'd died, and she tried to crawl her way out of the light. She managed to turn, but she only got herself halfway out. With one final tug, she fell out of the tunnel. She still had a feeling of accomplishment, of beating death, when she lost consciousness and slept for two hundred and seventy-two days.


	3. Chapter 3 The Sky Witch

Chapter 3

The Sky Witch

Taylor's eyes opened. He looked around groggily. _Where the heck am I?_ he thought. All he could see was a Juvenile Detention facility. _Oh, that's right. I went there. But why aren't I inside it, asleep in my own room?_ He squinted his eyes in confusion, and something really weird happened. Just for a flicker of a second, he saw a burned, charred ruin where the JDC had been. Then he remembered the fire. He remembered dying. _But then why aren't I dead?_ Or was he? Yes, he was almost certain he was dead. This didn't look like his idea of Heaven. Or hell. But then again, what did he know? His parents dragged him to church on Easter and Christmas, but other than that, he had no education in theology. It could be Nirvana, he supposed, or maybe he'd been reincarnated. No, he didn't think he was reincarnated. He still looked just like himself, except his hands were charred and oozing. But it didn't hurt. So maybe this was Heaven.

If it was Heaven, then Heaven was pretty lonely. He could faintly see cop cars, if he squinted and that strange phenomenon which showed him the blackened ruins occurred. But he was almost certain that when he saw that, he was looking at the world of the living. Why would there be a fire or policemen in Heaven? Then again, though, why would there be a Juvenile Detention Facility? JDC! Suddenly he remembered. He visualized that shimmering pearly tunnel – and the kid who knocked him out of it! It was _his _fault he was stuck here! He was sort of…lost. He was dead, but he wasn't _dead _dead yet. He hadn't gotten somewhere. It was sort of like missing the train at the station. Only he had no idea where he'd find another departure.

People passed him, in fact walked right through him, without even knowing it. It disconcerted him a little, well, a lot. But suddenly he saw someone who seemed to be glowing. Just a faint sheen to this boy's skin. He was headed right for Taylor, though, and seemed to be able to see him. Were there _others _who were lost, then? There must be. This boy was wearing an unattractive necktie and suit, and he had chocolate all over his face. He even smelled faintly of chocolate and freshly laundered clothes. "Hello," he greeted Taylor, while looking right at him and extending his hand. "I'm Nick."

Taylor shook his hand. He could feel it. Either he was going crazy or…well, he didn't really have a second option that he could think of. "Taylor," he introduced himself. "There are more like me?"

Nick smiled. "You're pretty quick, eh? Most of them can't even figure out that they're dead. They try to go home." The smile faded. "And then they sink."

"Sink?" he echoed, uncertain he'd heard right.

"If you go somewhere in the living world," Nick clarified, "the ground doesn't hold you. It's like mud. You'll fall right through it, all the way to the center of the earth."

"You can die here too?" Could you die after you were dead? That couldn't be right, could it?

"No, you can't," Nick answered, looking confused. "You don't die."

"But isn't the center of the earth flaming hot?" Contrary to popular opinion, Taylor did pay attention to _some _things in class.

"Yeah," Nick agreed, only adding to Taylor's confusion. "But we can't feel heat."

"Not even _that _much heat?" Taylor inquired. This was a crazy and strange world he lived in now…or, rather, didn't live in.

"No heat at all. We can't feel, because we're Afterlights. Things go right through us. We don't dream, or need to eat or sleep, although we can. If there's ghost food we can eat it, and we can sleep but it's unpleasant because we don't dream. We also can't feel pain. We don't need to breathe either."

Taylor gaped. "What was that last one? We don't need to _breathe?_" he demanded. He tried sucking in his breath, waiting for the warning signal automated by his brain. He waited to need oxygen. It didn't come. So this was what it felt like to die again.

"There's other things Greensouls have to worry about," Nick continued, oblivious to his trauma. "That's what you are – a Greensoul. You just recently died."

"I'm not so sure," Taylor doubted him. "I was unconscious for a long time."

"Well, yeah," Nick said. "You slept for nine months."

Taylor glared at him. "How do you know?"

"Because everyone does who comes into Everlost," Nick replied smugly. "Everlost – that's where we are now."

"What kind of place is this Everlost?" Taylor wondered out loud, not really expecting Nick to answer.

"It's not the best," Nick admitted. "There are no adults, though." Nick grinned as Taylor whooped with surprised pleasure.

"No adults? That's like the best news I've heard since I got here," Taylor said. "Why not?"

Nick shrugged. "No one knows. No one really cares much, except the Sky Witch."

Taylor stopped whooping. "The Sky Witch?"

"She's a monster," Nick explained matter-of-factly. "It's said she won't rest until she finds out every mystery of Everlost. If you know a secret, she'll suck your soul out through your mouth."

Taylor decided he didn't like Everlost. At all. Just his luck to be stuck in a place he hated for all eternity. But just then, he saw a figure approaching him and Nick on the horizon.


	4. Chapter 4 The Chocolate Ogre

Chapter 4

The Chocolate Ogre

Vivian was unlike Taylor in many ways. One of them was that she remembered dying completely. She woke up after her nine-month sleep and recalled every detail of her death. She even remembered being pushed out of the tunnel and falling into the netherworld between life and death. Fortunately, Vivian had an advantage to dying; she lived (no pun intended) in New York City. And, as all Afterlights knew, New York City was the home of Mary Hightower. So the first thing she saw when she awoke in the hospital was the Twin Towers.

The hotel, like the Juvenile Detention Facility, was a dead-spot, another advantage. She looked from one dead-spot to the other and knew something was wrong. The World Trade Center had collapsed eight years ago, and yet it was here, standing in front of her eyes. Hesitantly, she took a step into the street. In terror, she looked right into the fearsome headlights of an oncoming car. She backed up and tried to step back to the curb. Then she saw that her feet were slowly sinking in the road. She pulled her feet from the asphalt, which, oddly, she couldn't feel. As she did so, the car raced through her. It was an eerie sensation, one you didn't feel every day. Hurrying, she ran to the World Trade Center. There were some children playing in the street around it, which seemed to be blacker, darker, and more solid. The children were all young, apparently under the age of sixteen or seventeen. They looked, too, like they could see her. So maybe she wasn't a ghost. But they glowed faintly, too. Could ghosts see other ghosts? She struggled to remember any scary stories she'd read, and then gave up. It was probable that novelists had gotten everything wrong. Certainly, she'd never read a novel about a world that included the World Trade Center.

And yet…something clicked in her mind. She was dead, and she hadn't made it to the light. So she ended up in this world. In a way, you could say the Twin Towers had died. Had they made it to the light? Or were they blocked by all the other souls racing to the afterlife? Maybe buildings couldn't fit into the tunnel. That seemed likely. It was shaped to fit people, not structures. Amidst her pondering, one of the slightly glowing children came up to her and announced, "Hi! I'm Linda."

"I'm Vivian," Vivian replied.

"You must be a Greensoul," Linda assumed. "And since you're a Greensoul, you won't know what you are. Which is a Greensoul." Linda laughed at her own confusing language. "A Greensoul is a recent Afterlight. A recent ghost, you might call yourself."

"Are you a…Greensoul?" Vivian asked, trying out the new terminology.

Linda chuckled. "Me? No. I died in the fifties." Only when she said this did Vivian notice she was wearing a cashmere sweater and poodle skirt. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. "I guess you're here to see Mary? Or maybe not, since you're a Greensoul."

"Who's Mary?" Vivian asked curiously.

"Mary's kind of like our foster mom," Linda explicated. "She takes care of all of us. I'll lead you up to see her if you want to."

"Sure," Vivian shrugged. So Linda led her up several winding staircases, each of them stopping at a different floor. Some of the floors had young kids, some had teenagers, and some had preteens. The rooms each had different things – miscellaneous furniture, a game room, a rec room, or maybe a lounge. Vivian shook her head in wonder. What kind of place _was _this? The furniture didn't fit at all. In one room, she saw a worn forest green leather couch, a brand-new flat screen TV, a glass table, and an office desk. Finally she got the courage to ask Linda about it. "What's with the lack of feng shui?"

"Well," Linda answered cheerfully, and Vivian could feel a long-winded explanation coming, "furniture will only cross over if it's loved during life, and then it dies. Like maybe an old coffee table that someone knocked over and it shattered into a million pieces. Or a couch that someone spill red bug juice all over. It's the same with everything else. Buildings, food, toys, everything that is loved and dies suddenly crosses over."

_Then how did I get here? _Vivian could hardly stop herself from asking aloud. People had been nervously awaiting her death since she was five years old. And she was anything but loved. Oh, sure, her parents loved her. But did they love her sky-high medical bills? Did they love her nausea and listlessness and waking them up in the middle of the night because she had a one-oh-five fever? Did they love her inability to do almost anything correctly, from sports to school to people to _life_ to love itself? No. There were things her parents detested about her. They'd never say it to her face, but it was there. There were people who _would _say it to her face. She had few friends, and many enemies. She was bullied at school. They called her a freak, albino, anorexic, bulimic, emo, all sorts of labels and things she wasn't. No one would stick up for. She wasn't worth jeopardizing their social status as something remotely close to accepted.

Eventually, Linda and Vivian reached a door with a nameplate made of a collection of Scrabble tiles reading "MARY HIGHTOWER". Linda knocked on the door. "Come in!" sounded a pleasing, maternal voice.

Mary Hightower was rather plain. That was the first thought that struck Vivian. Her ordinary hair hung down her shoulders in a sort of limp way. Her green dress with ruffles that looked irritating was fancy, but not too fancy. Her eyes, though, held an unquestioned kindness. Vivian was good at reading people's eyes. Mary's eyes held a vast amount of motherly kindness, that was for sure. But there was something else there. Some knowledge she withheld, some old sadness that still lingered. These eyes lit up when she saw Vivian. "Oh, Linda," she gasped. "Another Greensoul? Wonderful!"

"Isn't it though?" Linda beamed. "Her name is Vivian. She is – how old did you say you were, sugar?"

"I'm thirteen," Vivian answered. "It's nice to meet you. Linda's told me great things about you." Something about Mary made Vivian want to be formal. It looked like she'd died around the nineteen-twenties or so, therefore she was used to manners.

"It's always fun to have a Greensoul around," Mary continued. "Now, you are more than welcome to stay here, but you could also wander around a bit, if there's somewhere or something you want to look for. Just one thing. Don't go home."

Vivian shivered a little. Something about the way Mary said that gave her the creeps. "Why?"

"Bad things happen here," Mary told her. "Bad people die too, you know. There's one boy called the Chocolate Ogre. He'll entice you in with the sweet smell of chocolate. Then he'll find ways to kill you again."

Vivian furrowed her eyebrows. "Kill you _again_? Wouldn't you have to be alive to die?"

Mary laughed self-consciously. "Well, I didn't mean it like that exactly, dear. All the monsters do it. There are other ways to hurt people in this world."

There was no escaping pain, wherever you went.


	5. Chapter 5 The McGill

Chapter 5

The McGill

Vivian died before Taylor did, so she still had time to look for him. The only thing was, she didn't know she was looking for _him_. Mary decided to send her out to look for the Chocolate Ogre and bring him back. She wanted to have a "talk" with him. Vivian thought she knew what that "talk" would be about, but of course she was wrong. She didn't know Mary and Nick's history together. So she recklessly agreed. Mary had her train herself by reading the books she wrote, and even some of her drafts. After a few sleepless days, she was almost as much an expert on Everlost as Mary herself. She felt she was ready for the mission she'd assigned herself: to live again. You see, Vivian didn't like being dead. In fact, she quite hated it. It was stupid. It was pointless. And it was no way to spend all of eternity. If this Chocolate Ogre could somehow kill you again, couldn't it also do the reverse? Couldn't it help her with what she needed? Vivian had an intuition that the hidden sadness she sensed around Mary had something to do with the Chocolate Ogre. If it hadn't had anything to do with it, then why didn't Mary go herself? Why did Mary assign her the job, then never speak about it again? And why, oh why, did that tearful look in her eye intensify whenever it was brought up?

After being dead for all of four days, Vivian reported to Mary Hightower's office and informed her she was ready. "Good," Mary affirmed. "Let's start. The Chocolate Ogre was last sighted preying around some sort of kids' jail. I don't know what the living call it and I don't care, because it changes every decade. It's not far from here - just walk down this road, past this hospital dead-spot. Keep walking a few miles on that same street. It'll start to become more suburban. After that you should see it. We Afterlights have an eye for dead-spots." Vivian grimaced at the thought of walking through all those people and cars. Of course it didn't hurt, but it still was awkward. She saluted and started her walk, passing the little Afterlights playing in the street. She winced as she walked past the hospital. It brought back painful memories.

She wondered about something. The hospital had never been "killed". It was still living. Then as Vivian looked closely, she realized it was actually a slightly different hotel by the same name. The doors were wooden instead of the familiar glass sliding doors. It seemed to be just a little shorter. Perhaps an old hospital had burnt down, and "her" hospital had been built in its place. She had never known that; worse still, she had never even thought to ask about the hotel's history. She wasn't like most sick kids, who always seemed to be happy. She once asked one of them why they were so happy, because it irritated her. Did they know a secret she didn't? No, the girl had answered, dying just put things in perspective for her. Vivian didn't understand how that worked. How did dying, living with that omnipresent factor of death, make you live? So she wasn't one of those people the nurses and doctors loved. She wasn't happy-go-lucky. Why should she be? She was _dying_. Did that mean anything to any of them? Had they ever had a fatal illness? Did they understand how hard it was just to stay alive, much less enjoy life?

Whatever. No, of course they didn't, but that was part of her old life. It didn't concern her anymore. She was going to find a way to live again. Until then, she had only one focus. The skyscrapers gradually faded, replaced by dull storybook homes. Finally, she saw the dead-spot. It was darker, firmer, like all dead-spots. She ran toward it, hoping, praying the Chocolate Ogre was there. There were two forms she could make out, and then...the sweet smell of chocolate. It was him, all right, the Chocolate Ogre. He was shorter than she'd imagined, only her age or maybe a year older. He had on an ugly necktie and a slightly ruffled tuxedo. His face was completely covered with chocolate. He was talking to someone, no doubt trying to lure the boy away. The boy was tall, in his tweens. He had shaggy auburn hair and navy eyes. He wore ripped jeans and a Metallica T-shirt. His most noticeably feature, though, was that his hands were burned. The skin was black as charcoal, looking like it was right about to flake off. He must have died in a fire. This conclusion made her breath catch in her throat. What an awful way to die.

"You stay right there, Chocolate Ogre!"

The words burst out of her in a flurry. The Chocolate Ogre looked up, with a strange look on his face...confusion. Then his countenance smoothed out. "She sent you here, didn't she? The Sky Witch?"

Chocolate Ogre's would-be victim started in terror at the name. "We don't know any secrets!" His illogical statement didn't faze her. She had to continue with her mission.

"Yes, she sent me," Vivian agreed. "But I'm not here for her."

The Chocolate Ogre screamed at her. "I won't help her! She didn't tell you about the McGill, did she?"

The McGill? Was this a more terrible monster, or a friend he had killed? The Chocolate Ogre leered at her. "The McGill was an awful creature. He couldn't kill, but he could torture. He couldn't inflict pain, but he could make you suffer. She helped him. He was her brother!"

Vivian gave him a cold, hard stare. "You're lying."

He shook his head. "I'll swear it on a stack of Bibles. _The McGill was Mary Hightower's brother._"

She fixed her gaze. "Maybe I don't care. Maybe I'm not here on her errand."

The Chocolate Ogre sat down beside the boy and grinned. "Then welcome," he immediately changed his tone. "My name is Nick."


	6. Chapter 6 Allie

Chapter 6

Allie

Taylor watched Nick and the girl's debate with curious fascination. Was this one of the Sky Witch's minions? No, it couldn't be. She swore she hadn't come because of her. A minion would never do that. Was what Nick said true? Was there some sort of a monster club? Or were they all just rumors? For the girl had called Nick something too. What was it? The Chocolate Ogre? Maybe there were no monsters in Everlost. Even dead people could make things up. At the end, the girl announced. "Nice to meet you, Nick." She sat down beside him and Nick and stuck out her hand. "Name's Vivian."

"Taylor," he added, probably looking like a dunce, but oh well. He was dead – what was he doing trying to impress girls? "Nick's been teaching me some things about Everlost."

"Has he taught you how to live again?" she demanded. Nick's brow furrowed.

"Is that what she – Mary – told you?" he inquired. "I don't know how. I only know how to get out of here." He pulled a coin from his back pocket, but the girl waved it away.

"She didn't tell me. I guessed. From certain hints…" Vivian had an awkward look about her. Taylor wondered what those "certain hints" were. This place had an awful lot of secrets – but then, did the living world have fewer? Not really.

Nick shook his head, causing Vivian to look crestfallen. "I don't know how. But if you're interested, you've got all of eternity. I have another friend. Her name's Allie."

"What does she know?" Vivian requested eagerly.

Nick shrugged. "She knows how to skinjack. How to paranorm. I hear she's even been learning how to ectorip."

Vivian admitted, "I don't know what those things are."

Nick smiled wryly. "I'll let her explain…"

And so Vivian and he were led down a strange path, away from the city and trying, evidently, to stay close to all the dead-spots. He seemed to have become a reluctant participant in this everlasting quest. He was almost certain they'd never make it. Yet something inside him said it was possible. The living world had rules, right? Things always fell if they weren't supported by something. Everything was made of either matter or energy. The center of the earth was burning hot. These rules could be broken, though. Heavy skyscrapers stood up. Entire continents moved. Robots did the work of people. There were anti-gravity chambers, dark matter, cool spots on the sun. All they needed to do was find one of those places that made dark matter.

Finally, after maybe a day of sleepless walking, they came upon a dead-spot in the road. A girl with straight brown hair and plain eyes was sitting on it, looking like she was meditating. Taylor guessed she was Allie.

"Are you Allie?" Vivian asked. Her eyes opened, and Taylor sensed a flash of annoyance.

"I am," she answered. "What do you want?"

Vivian hesitated. "Well…we wanted to know about ectojacking and skinnorming and stuff like that."

"Ectoripping. Paranorming. Skinjacking," Allie corrected. "I can teach you these things. But you must have the ability to learn."

Ability to learn? That didn't sound good. Taylor didn't have much of an ability to learn anything. Maybe Vivian did. He could just sit here and wait while she had her lesson. Allie took them by the hand and walked them back to civilization. It was weird the way she moved. It looked like she was gliding above the earth. She was the first Afterlight Taylor had met who really looked like a ghost. Did paranorming do that to you? If so, maybe he didn't want to learn it after all. It didn't seem to turn off Vivian though, and he wasn't about to be called a wimp by a girl. So he followed a little reluctantly.

"Where is Mikey?" Nick asked Allie quietly.

"He got where he was going," Allie answered with a hint of melancholy. "After only nine years of semi-decent deeds, the people above deemed him ready. Ah, here we are." There were a few of the living in a house. Allie swooped in. The next thing they saw was a tall boy with long hair in a ponytail coming out and waving in their general direction. They could see Allie, but she was hidden in the boy. So one of those things was learning how to control people.

_So you can be alive again – in a way_, Taylor thought to himself. If you could possess the living, make yourself one of them, couldn't you live again? Vivian had instilled in him some ideas. Breaking rules was his thing. He needed to find some rules to break here. Why not do it for a good cause – and help a pretty girl as well? _Because it won't work_, his subconscious told him. _If there was a way out of here by now, someone would have found it. _But who was to say someone hadn't? How would they be able to tell? They wouldn't even be able to see Everlost. No, he reasoned to himself, it was possible. If it was possible, he could do it. His father had often told him that _he_, and nothing else, was his only limit. He wouldn't limit himself now, and he would succeed. Maybe it would impress Vivian. Did dead people have phone numbers?

"Let me show you how to skinjack," Allie interrupted him in a mystical voice. "Float over the person. Glimpse what they are thinking." Taylor obeyed, a little nervously. He chose the man, presumably the father of the boy Allie had skinjacked. _What the heck was he doing – maybe he's on drugs – waving to invisible people – hallucinating – mental illness – something's wrong with him – I've told Carol a million times we ought to test him – something feels cold_

Ha! Taylor had skinjacked, and the man hadn't even known he was there. He was a natural. "Now," Allie instructed, "try to make them think what you're thinking."

Oh. Well. He hadn't skinjacked _yet. _But he would. He stepped back into the man. _Definitely feeling something cold – air conditioner – told Carol a million times to turn that down – stupid hot flashes._ Taylor tried to think of things someone possessed might do. He thought of one and grinned a bit maniacally.Taylor took a deep breath, although he didn't need to, and thought as hard, as fiercely as he could, _I want to go kill my son. _He heard it in the man's thoughts then. _I hate Carol's hot flashes – they make us all freeze to death – I want to go kill my son – who said that – who thought that – it wasn't me._ Taylor smiled and kept on thinking it. The man thought it several times but did nothing. Taylor stopped after a few seconds. Maybe he ought to do something every fiber of the man's being didn't beat against. _Going crazy – mental illness – contagious – I think I'll go get some more coffee – yeah – coffee's good – mm – coffee. _The man went into his kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee. Taylor grinned triumphantly.

Allie nodded approvingly. "Good job," she complimented. "Now, you have to enter the skin. Make him move." _Make him move_? That seemed hard. Taylor hesitantly stepped into the body. He could feel it immediately. He felt the man's warm skin, his heartbeat. He could hear his thoughts too. _What's happening – going crazy – what is this – am I possessed? _Taylor tried to speak to him by thinking hard.

_Don't panic! _He tried to communicate. _It's okay – this is just an experiment. _

The man had woken himself up to Taylor's presence, and was now trying to free himself. Taylor held his grip firmly. He wrapped "his" hands around the cup of coffee and threw it through the window. It made a satisfying crash and the glass sprayed all over the floor. Taylor picked up a small shard of glass. It slipped into his finger and blood dripped out. Pain. A new, wonderful sensation. He reveled in it. He could feel things an Afterlight couldn't. He was alive again! But it had to end sometime. The man wriggled out of Taylor's mental grip on his and started running out of his house screaming.

Vivian's person, who appeared to be his wife, was karate-chopping various random objects and smiling. Every time she blushed, her hand went up to her face. Occasionally her hand fluttered over her chest as if to feel her heartbeat. They were puppeteers, and the living were putting on a show for them.

Allie smiled and nodded. "Good," she approved. "That will be the end of your first lesson."


	7. Chapter 7 Mary Hightower

Chapter 7

Mary Hightower

Vivian continued with their lesson for a long time. She was sure it was working. She felt she was almost starting to live again, and yet at the same time part of her mind was telling her to leave. Possessing people and making herself seen was close to living. She could also eat like a normal person, live in a house like a normal person. Still…there was something off. It was like living through a machine. It wasn't a _life._ She was still stuck in Everlost. She was still, well, dead. She just enjoyed the things the living could, but that didn't make her alive again. Was there any way to _truly _live again? She doubted it. And yet there had to be something. When they had finished their training, Vivian asked Allie where she ought to go next.

"Who would know how to live again?" Vivian questioned of Allie. They planned to put their good newfound skills to use along the way.

Allie smiled wryly. "Ask Mary Hightower," she instructed. "She knows many things."

Vivian didn't have any difficulty believing that the maternal goody-two-shoes knew a lot about Everlost, more than she'd published in her books. There was something not quite right about Mary as well. Was anything in Everlost real? Or was it all too good to be true? Once more she dragged Taylor along, but this time it was more of a personal journey. They were alone, for one thing, and they didn't have Nick talking to them all the time. In order to sort of spice up the journey, she asked Taylor some questions. "How old were you?" She didn't need to clarify what she meant. He knew.

"Thirteen," he answered, staring up at the sky and kicking a rock. "You?"

"Thirteen," she echoed. "How did you die?"

He stopped, and so did she. He looked her in the eye. "A fire," he responded, and resumed walking. "It seems like a long time ago now," Taylor continued. "I had been sent to a Juvenile Detention Center for stealing a car. They were doing a chem lab. Someone mixed two things together and it started smoking. It wasn't supposed to do that. Everyone screamed. Somehow, kerosene got into a Bunsen burner. The whole thing blew. It would have been beautiful if we weren't all so terrified.

"Everyone started running and screaming. The fire came into our room next. We were in Language Arts. They all ran so selfishly. It was like I didn't know any of them. They were only interested in saving themselves. They left behind this one kid, Manuel, who everyone used to tease. He was just sitting there. I knew the fire would consume the room, but I tried to get him out. He just didn't seem to care. He had given up all hope.

"The fire took us both that day," Taylor ended sadly. "He beat me to the light."

Vivian cleared her throat. It was her turn to share. "I had leukemia," she admitted. "I was diagnosed when I was five years old, and I'd never had a normal life since. But when the light took me, something surfaced. I decided I didn't want to die, that I couldn't and wouldn't. So I tried to climb out of the tunnel and get away from the light."

"Isn't it a bit strange," Taylor reasoned, "that we both ended up here because we tried to do something?"

"No," Vivian corrected. "We're only here because we failed."

After that the walk was mostly silent. They slept, but not for long. It always scared them to sleep without dreaming. It was kind of like being knocked out. You couldn't feel, or see, or hear, except you didn't know that. You knew nothing. It was like dying again. She woke up after only four hours and woke up Taylor. "Mary said it wasn't sleep that stopped us from being tired, it was the company of other people," she told him once he was half-awake. "So let's be company for each other."

Taylor started walking, then began awkwardly. "Uh…what do we have to do to refresh ourselves? Just talk?"

"Yeah, I think so," Vivian answered. "Well, uh, did you ever read _Twilight?_"  
Taylor scoffed. "That's a chick flick."

Vivian glared at him, miffed. "It's a _book_."

He looked taken aback. "I didn't know that."

"Didn't you _go_ to school when you were alive?" she demanded. Then she flinched. Had she?

"Yes," he snapped. "I skipped a grade, actually."

"Probably only so your teachers could get rid of you," she retorted.

He smiled a cocky smile. "Why do you want to live again so much, anyway?"

His off-subject question surprised her. She fumbled for an answer. "Because it sucks to be dead," she replied automatically.

He nodded seriously. "But, let me ask you this. When you were alive, you seem to be kind of a cynic. Tell me you didn't ever say to yourself, it sucks to be dead."

She gave him a strange look. Well, he was right, but…how had he known that? "Well, yes."

"Yet you didn't go looking for ways to die." It was a statement, not a question.

"How do you know I didn't kill myself?" she demanded.

He smiled that cocky half-smile. "Because you would have made it to the light."

She scraped the very bottom of the barrel for an answer, but couldn't find one. Finally she decided not to combat him. "Say I didn't kill myself. What's your point?"

"My point is, when you were alive and thinking it sucks to be alive, you didn't go looking for ways to kill yourself. But now you're dead and thinking it sucks to be dead, and you're trying to be alive again. What changed?" He waited eagerly for an answer.

"Well…being dead really sucks. And I've thought it ever since I was dead. When I was alive, I didn't think it sucked to be alive _all _the time."

He leered. "Didn't you?"

His question pulled her up short. When was a time when she was happy to be alive? She couldn't think of any. There were times when she hadn't wanted to _die_ – a bunch of those – but never any time when she was appreciating life. She pursed her lips and gave no answer. "See, what I think is, you don't want to _live again, _because you don't really think it sucks to be dead," Taylor continued obnoxiously. "You want a different life, where you're not sick. Where you can go to school and have friends and, I don't know, play soccer."

She struggled to respond to that. "Well, I mean, that would be nice, but it's not the only reason. I think I know myself better than you know me."

"I know you do. I'm just good at reading people."

Vivian turned away from Taylor, furious. Why couldn't he just trust her? He didn't have to come if he didn't want to, and if he wanted to, why didn't he _shut up_? Then again…he _did _have a point. Maybe she wasn't looking for her own life back. Maybe she just wanted a second chance. Well, there wasn't any reason to say she wouldn't get that. She couldn't have her _old _life back. So she'd have to get a different life… right? Did she want a different life? Of course she did. Gah! It was all so confusing. Everything had been clear and straightforward before she invited Taylor along.

"You can leave now," she directed coolly.

He stared at her. "What?"

"If you don't want to come, you don't have to. If you _do _want to come, then shut up. I've answered your question. Don't question my answer." She voiced her earlier thoughts, stealing a cliché from a book she'd read.

"I want to come," Taylor insisted.

"Then _shut up!_"

So he did. They walked the rest of the way in silence. Vivian was fuming. He may have shut up, but the damage was done. She hated him for that. One of the first things she had learned from leukemia was that if something was simple, don't make it complicated. Everything had been simple. She died, she didn't like it, she tried to come back. Now everything was turned around. He was just stupid.

Finally, they got back to Vivian's hometown. It was time to see Mary.


	8. Chapter 8 Vari

Chapter 8

Vari

Vivian obviously knew what to do, so she led the way. Taylor followed behind, a bit smugly. He had won the fight, and Vivian was kind of cute when she was mad. He laughed quietly to himself. He just couldn't remember he was dead, could he? They came to Mary's office. Vivian knocked quietly. Mary answered the door. She looked like some actress in an old movie. She wore a green dress with plenty of ruffles and ebony shoes. He wondered vaguely how old she was. She could have been anywhere from twelve to sixteen. Mary recognized Vivian right away. "Why, Vivian, how nice to see you again!" she enthused cheerily. "And who is your friend?"

Vivian scowled. Maybe she didn't like being treated like a five-year-old? "This is Taylor," she mumbled. "May we come in?"

Mary looked a bit baffled, but backed up and held the door for them. They each took a seat. Vivian's was a blue armchair; Taylor's was a red plastic seat meant for babies. Mary sat in the official-looking chair. "It's nice to see you back, Vivian," Mary reiterated. "Am I to assume you were unsuccessful locating the Chocolate Ogre?"

"_You _were unsuccessful," Vivian retorted. "The Chocolate Ogre's not really the Chocolate Ogre. He doesn't try to hurt people. His name is Nick and he's our friend. I'm not working for you anymore. I just wanted to ask you something, friend-to-friend."

Mary smoothed out her dress. "Nick might not appear harmful. But he is bad for this world. I explain the way he is bad by calling him the Chocolate Ogre. It's easier for children to understand."

"I'm not a child," Vivian insisted. "But that's not the point. We want to know if there's any way to live again."

The effect of this on Mary was instantaneous. She stiffened rigidly until her body was straight as a board, and frowned as though offended. She shook her head sadly at Vivian. "There is no way to live again," she lamented. "Those who want to live again find too late it is impossible."

"No, please, if you could just-" Vivian started to say. Then she started again. "Wait. What do you mean, _too late_?"

Taylor shivered with excitement. They'd caught her! They had her at last. She'd have to explain. They'd make her. They had all of eternity.

"No good can come of this, Vivian," Mary backtracked. "You are dead. There is no changing it. I'm sorry you died. But you can't live in the past."

"That's the only time I ever did," Vivian stated.

Something about this seemed to make Mary open up. Mary struck Taylor as a very maternal person who hated to see any child upset. She just shook her head tiredly. "There are some Afterlights," she whispered, "who become obsessed with living again. They never reach their goal, understand, but they disappear. They fade. They aren't ever seen again."

Vivian dropped her voice to a whisper. "How do you know they _don't _live again?"

Mary shook her head. She looked like she would cry if she could. "There are things a person just knows, Vivian. Don't try it. You can't succeed. Please. Don't throw your…well, not your life exactly, but your future. Don't through your future away."

"I'm not," Vivian argued. "I'm _changing _it."

"So that it ceases to exist!" Mary snarled. "That's what happens to those Afterlights that become obsessed. They fade into nothingness. It's like being sucked into a black hole."

"How do you know?" Taylor demanded. He had decided it was time for him to join the conversation.

Mary sobbed, but no tears came out. It didn't look natural; in fact it looked so unnatural Taylor had to look away. She was crying so hard. "I've studied it."

"If it were only that," Taylor pointed out, "you wouldn't be crying."

She stopped crying finally. "There was an Afterlight who came here once," she confessed. "Her name was Ashleigh. She had a wonderful life, but she was in a car accident. She became so obsessed with living again that she secluded herself into one of these rooms and thought of nothing else. Then one day she was gone. I sent scouts all over the world to look for her for twenty years. They never found her."

"So she achieved her goal," Vivian gathered.

"No! Don't you see?" Mary was shouting now. "She couldn't have! There is no way out of Everlost!"

"That you know of," Vivian riposted. "But there is a way. And I'll find it. With or without you." On that dramatic note, Vivian stood, turned and walked out. Taylor followed dumbly, giving Mary a flirtatious wave and a wink as he exited.

Vivian stormed out of the building. Taylor tried to make conversation, but every attempt at small talk was shot down with a short "Don't talk to me" or "I'm not in the mood, Taylor". Things might have gone differently had they not met a small boy on the way out. He was dressed in heavy clothes that looked like they were at least several centuries old. Taylor would have hated to die in that. At least he was wearing comfortable clothing. The boy was also carrying a violin. He stepped in front them, blocking their way. "Hi," he greeted them. "I'm Vari."

"That's nice," Vivian answered rudely. "We kind of have to be going." She made a move to push Vari out of the way. Both Taylor and Vari blocked her.

"Maybe he knows something," Taylor whispered in Vivian's ear.

"Wait, please," Vari said. "I know what you said to Mary."

"How?" Vivian inquired impatiently.

"I was kind of listening outside the door," he admitted sheepishly.

This didn't appear to concern Vivian. "And?" she demanded.

"I have a story to tell you," Vari concluded.

"Well, make it quick," Vivian snapped. "I don't have time for this."

Taylor thought that was kind of ironic, seeing as how she was kind of dead and had all the time in the world. "Okay, I will," Vari promised. "One time, there were these two Afterlights named Nick and Allie. They came to Mary."

"Allie the Outcast?" Taylor guessed. "And the Chocolate Ogre?"

Vari grinned. "You're quick. Yes, I'm getting to that. They were Greensouls, you see, and Mary allowed them to stay of course. But Mary didn't like Allie. Allie figured out Mary's dirty little secret – that she forces the Greensouls that come here into what she calls a niche. They do the same thing every day, all day. There's the same game of kickball, the same card game, same, same, same. So Allie decided to go to the Haunter. She took Nick and this other kid, Lief. The Haunter kidnapped her friends, but he taught her a little about 'the Criminal Arts'."

"And Nick?" Vivian asked.

"That's another story entirely. Nick fell in love with Mary, and it was mutual. But Mary, you know, she's Mary Queen of Snots. She can't have her head clouded by anything. So she sent Nick away. He found out some stuff she hated too. Like you know those coins in your back pockets?" Taylor and Vivian each reached for their back pockets. Well, there _was _a coin there. How had it gotten there? It was about four times as big as a quarter. She rubbed it. It felt unusually cold. Vari continued with his story. "Those will get you out of Everlost. If it feels warm when you touch it, you'll get where you're going. Mary knew that, but she told all the kids to throw them away. That they were worthless and, and I quote, 'best discarded along with one's pocket lint'. After that, Mary made Nick into the Chocolate Ogre and tells horror stories about him."

"So what are you saying?" Vivian questioned.

Vari gave her a knowing look. "I'm saying that Mary knows a lot more than she lets on. She's not stupid. Never has been. She's just smart enough to hide all the important information."

Taylor shook his head, confused. "Why are you helping us?"

Vari shrugged. "Maybe you seem like nice kids. Maybe I remember a little about how that feels, wanting to be alive. Maybe I'm sick of Mary. Maybe I just want you to stop flirting with her." Vari smiled, then turned serious. "Now go! Don't let her find you!"

They obeyed him and hurried away.


	9. Chapter 9 The Obsessors

Chapter 9

Obsessors

There had once been a small patch of forest in the Colorado National Forest. It didn't have any specific name or feature or anything that set it apart. The only special thing it did was die. A small fire, somewhat contained, burned it to the ground.

It was this patch of forest that the group that called themselves the Obsessors chose for their headquarters. They felt they identified with it. When it was alive, it had been nothing special. Now it was dead, but it was still occupied with the living that were meandering across it, still "containing" the fire. This particular band of lost souls was united by one common purpose: the drive to live again. Their leader was a tough girl name Celestyn. She had unwashed red hair and weighed nearly twice as much as anyone in the group. She'd died at the age of fifteen on a Girl Scouts camping trip. It was a tragic accident. When they went to wash clothes in the river, Celestyn fell in. They all rushed to help her, but could only watch helplessly as she rushed downstream. She couldn't swim, so the water absorbed her. Celestyn was unusual in that she had crossed over with a camera, and one that developed pictures on the spot, no less. She took pictures of all the group members, so that when they achieved their goal and new recruits came, she could show them the myriad of successful voyagers. She was fast running out of film, but it didn't matter. Those pictures would be there forever.

The majority of the group was interested in "the Criminal Arts" – paranorming, ecto-ripping, and skinjacking. It was because of this hobby that they found the two lost souls Taylor and Vivian. Though they lived in Colorado, they often skinjacked in New York City, sort of the way a person who lives in New York City might ski in Colorado. Somehow to the Obsessors, "the city that never sleeps" translated to "the city that never dies". It was their favorite haunt – no pun intended. So Celestyn took them on a side trip to New York City.

"Remember to concentrate on becoming one of the living," Celestyn reminded them. "But it doesn't hurt to do some skinjacking and ecto-ripping. It feels like being alive again."

The new recruits hustled along. They thoroughly enjoyed their field trip of skinjacking. "It feels great!" cried one little girl, Kiana. "I can breathe again. My heart is beating!"

Celestyn smiled proudly. "Your heart will beat soon enough, Kiki," Celestyn promised, giving the child a nickname. "Don't lose sight of it."

"I won't…um, Lessie," Kiana replied, wanting to return the favor. Celestyn liked the nickname and decided to consider keeping it.

For dinner, she took her little club to a restaurant to ecto-rip. As soon as Celestyn entered the restaurant, though, she sensed something wasn't right. Someone had ecto-ripped here before. She could see some telltale signs. As this was New York City, the queendom of the Queen of Snots, she wondered who would have possibly ecto-ripped. _Maybe,_ she speculated, _it's another Obsessor in the making. _She decided immediately that as soon as she was finished with this bunch, she'd go and track down the person who'd ecto-ripped. Ugh. That would mean meeting with Mary Hightower, who would no doubt offer the phony safety and comfort of her own personal skyscraper. Celestyn could refuse, though. She'd refused people before. But…maybe she oughtn't to wait. It might make some of the younger kids more confident if they weren't the newest members, but this person had to be advanced if he/she could already ecto-rip. Yes, she determined, they would go soon.

After a few more days, Celestyn still had not given up hope on the other ecto-ripper. The kids seemed still more motivated by this trip. Though some of them were older than her, she still thought of them as "kids", her charges that she had to take care of. Now it was her duty to make them feel more secure by adding a newer member to the group. So she appointed little Kiki in charge of the group, instructing them to have some fun paranorming. She had an appointment with Mary Hightower.

Though she'd never admit it to anyone, all those steps up to Mary's office were kind of nerve-wracking. What if one fell? What if you were just minding your business, and then suddenly the floor crumbled beneath you, and your foot smashed through into nothingness? The elevators didn't work – they were still stuck on the floors they'd crossed over at – but even if they did, she would never have used one. She had a bit of an acrophobia. Heights just weren't her thing. Celestyn was relieved when she was finally at Mary's floor and could stand on semi-solid ground. She went into Mary's office and knocked on the door.

"Ah, Celestyn," Mary answered, giving her a disapproving once-over. "How…nice…to see you again."

Nice wasn't exactly how Celestyn would have described it, but Mary was entitled to her own opinion. For now. "Nice nameplate," she commented, referring to the mismatched Scrabble tiles glued to her door. "I need you to do me a favor."

Mary opened the door wider. "Really? Come in, come in," she invited. Celestyn took her seat in an armchair and grimaced. She hated having to ask favors of the Sky Witch. "So what can I do for you?"

Celestyn scowled. Sometimes she just wanted to yell at Mary, "Stop pretending like you like me! We both know you don't, so just shut up about it! You're not my mother and you don't have to act like you like me!" But of course she didn't. Then Mary would never do anything for her again, and she had been useful in the past. Celestyn was a master of strategy.

"Have you had any issues with ecto-ripping? Anyone asking about the, um, Criminal Arts?" The name would barely make its way out of Celestyn's mouth. But she had to speak Mary's language, or she wouldn't help her.

Mary looked affronted. "Well…yes. How did you know about that?"

Celestyn grinned devilishly. "I noticed something in a restaurant. Little marks. I wondered who would ecto-rip here."

Mary stood and cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable. "There was a girl," she admitted. "Her name was Vivian. She wanted to become alive again, but I dissuaded her, or tried to. I failed miserably. She visited Allie the Outcast and has delved into the Criminal Arts. She's beyond help. If you want her, have her."

"Where would I find her?" Celestyn asked.

"They fled my building," Mary answered. "I don't know where they went."

Celestyn thanked her (for what?) and went down the steps. There she encountered a small boy. He was wearing extremely old-fashioned clothes, looking like he'd died sometime around the 1600s. He had brown hair and small eyes, so small Celestyn could barely discern what color they were. "I'm Vari," he announced in a whisper. "I want to help Vivian too."

She glared at the little kid. "I'm fifteen. I've been dead for thirty years. I don't need the help of an eight-year-old."

"I'm nine," Vari corrected, "and I've been dead for four hundred years. I know where Vivian is."  
Celestyn only heard the last part. "Where is she?"

Vari laughed maniacally. He darted down several hallways, then finally showed Celestyn a broom closet. He opened the door. Sitting there, her mouth taped, her arms bound behind her back, was a girl a bit younger than Celestyn.

* * *

Vivian should have learned long ago what Allie already knew. Vari always had a master plan, and you were usually only a minor piece. A pawn. He could move you however he wished. He coaxed Taylor and Vivian away, then waited until they fell asleep. When she woke up, she and Taylor were bound and gagged in this closet.

Now, there was some girl here. Vivian didn't know who she was. Maybe she was Vari's accomplice. Maybe she was her savior. Whoever she was, she looked like a Raggedy Ann doll that had eaten at McDonald's for a few centuries. She had a slightly horrified look on her face. Vivian deduced she probably wasn't Vari's accomplice, but neither was she her savior. Vari grinned maliciously at Vivian.

"You wanted to be alive, didn't you?" Vari teased. "You wanted to live again. How touching. Well, here is your chance. Join the Obsessors. Concentrate on life, and maybe find your way out. Maybe damn yourself. What do I know?"

Vivian looked from Vari to the Raggedy Ann doll. She had to choose.

* * *

Taylor could tell Vivian was going to choose the Obsessors. He

didn't know what her craze about living was. It didn't seem like she'd had that great a life to begin with, so why want it back? Or maybe that was the point. You always wanted what you couldn't have…what you'd never had. Vivian had never had much of a life; in death, it was all she could think about. He had to save her. She'd listen to him, he knew. She might hate him, sort of, but she would still pay attention, still listen. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled his arms over his head and unfastened the tape. "Don't do it, Vivian!" he cried.

She looked at him, seeming confused. He drew in a breath. "Maybe your life sucked. But that doesn't mean your death has to. You're dead, okay? You should just…live with it. It's natural. It's a part of life." He took the coin from her back pocket. It was freezing to him, but he wasn't who mattered. He held it out to her.

He could tell, just by watching her face, that it was warm to her. She started to fade slowly. He kissed her gently on her cheek. "Have fun in the afterlife," he whispered.


End file.
